


What does it feel to be loved?

by redsilklino



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Chanlix and Seungbin mentions, Cute Han Jisung | Han, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Felix and Seungmin are kind of bad friends, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Jisung is petty, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, Mentioned Hwang Hyunjin, Minho is two years older but they ignore that, Sad Han Jisung | Han, Smut, at first, dirty Han Jisung, dirty overall, insecurities about the other not reciprocating their feelings, its just one line, just insecurities and fears from both Minho and Jisung, messy handjobs, slight mention of dom Minho and sub Jisung for the future, they are both whipped idiots for the other, too much sexual tension accumulated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22302157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsilklino/pseuds/redsilklino
Summary: Han Jisung is a lonely boy, except for his catholic friends Kim Seungmin and Lee Felix. However, when the two of them get into relationships, Jisung finds himself all alone again and more skeptical than ever about love. Until Minho comes into his life.Lee Minho becomes his best friend and although both have feelings for the other, they are too afraid of losing the other to admit them.OrTwo idiots that are in love and have too much sexual tension accumulated that one afternoon after getting a bit emotional in Jisung's room, they end up giving each other messy handjobs while making out.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin
Comments: 21
Kudos: 292





	What does it feel to be loved?

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't plan to write this at all so I consider this a hot mess XD It frustrate me and kind of made me lose my mind because some parts weren't as good as I wanted them but I fixed them and I think it is good? I hope.
> 
> The first half is more emotional/fun (?) and the second half (aprox.) is more about the smut and their desires for the other. 
> 
> Remember that I am not a native speaker so I might make a (more than) few mistakes, but I am more than willing to learn and get feedback/constructive criticism to improve. If you want to read something shorter I have a Hyunjin solo fic titled "Intoxicant" on my profile, if you overall want to read more of my ideas, follow me on twitter "3rchxgods" :D
> 
> Next project: SeungChan

It was a nice chilly afternoon in Jisung’s small bedroom. The old air conditioner was working restlessly on the corridor that connected the different rooms of the house’s first floor. The window was slightly open and the curtains moved hypnotically with the hot summer breeze. He could hear the loud music his neighbours were playing, some cliché song about love that should have been a ballad by the pain the lyrics reflected, but followed a cheerful rhythm, inviting the listener to dance their worries and pain away. His bedroom door was also opened, something quite unexpected from the usual scenario, in which he locked up himself every afternoon playing games, watching tv shows, anime and some porn (more than) occasionally. Basically doing everything than his parents despised and anything that would help him pass the few classes that he failed that semester for being extremely lazy. 

  
And that was exactly the thing about Jisung. Although, not the truth about him. 

  
For everyone that did not know him deeply, he was just another boy too lazy or too unmotivated by the impossible grading system of their country to do anything productive with his life. They did not know that he always liked to keep on playing dumb avoiding all questions asked about his future on purpose, not because he was an unconscious teenager that just loved to get into trouble or be irresponsible, but because he never really trusted himself enough. Because he did not have hopes. And because he knew the moment he started to speak about his true dreams, everyone would laugh at him, mock him or convince him to try another route, something safer, something boring that would make him be seated on a chair for never-ending hours of torture instead of on stages.

  
That’s the reason why he consistently acted confident on his looks, on his hypothetical and fake future plans, on his decisions, feelings and words and nobody never questioned him, because he was a good liar. He has always been, since he was little. He liked to create unrealistic scenarios, play inexistent characters and too imaginative dialogues because he was a lonely kid. No siblings, no real friends because he was “too weird”, “uncool” and “gross”. His only friend was the kid’s neighbours when they lived in another city, years ago, but then they moved and he lost contact with Yang Jeongin. Plus, the boy was incredible handsome and he fancied many interesting hobbies that made Jisung feel small (as if the differences between their heights and body shape didn’t affect him at all), such as sports or complex sciences, like maths or physics. 

  
So he had to learn how to lie, to his parents and to people, _especially_ to new people. He acted lively just when he was with his friends, Kim Seungmin and Lee Felix, another two geeks he found one day on the arcade. However, they went to some catholic school and the three of them just meet on weekends to spend the sunday’s afternoon together, after both, Seungmin and Felix, went to church with their families. At least, that was before Felix ditched them to get along (and they got along, _indeed_ ) with the son, Bang Chan, of one of those really religious ( _creepy_ , Jisung might add salty about his friend’s betrayal for yummy abs and cute dimples, that were not really that cute) families that they meet, and they both started to mess around, all jokes. Until things got heated and they always sneaked to spend some steamy time on Chan’s basement before his parents came back midday and Felix kind of had to ran away through the back door, of course, without missing his one last peck. Because he was always cute and Chan couldn’t resist the way Felix looked at him, with puppy eyes, for a last bit of attention before they had to wait another horrific week to meet each other.

  
Maybe, and just maybe, Jisung was behaving so petty with the petite boy because he had to know about these news by running into them in an embarrassing situation, instead of a nice chat while killing some opponents online. And with embarrassing situation, Jisung really meant a really suggestive and traumatic image of both their dicks on full display in a heated session that led to an incredible awkward silence. Jisung just stood there, first time coming into that church in search for his “innocent” and “pure” catholic friend (they both knew perfectly that was a pretty little lie by the amount of porn he also consumed and commented jokingly with the other two). So see him crawled on another boy’s lap, dick in one hand rubbing against the other’s one length as well, spit moistening his chin from open mouth kisses and bites and deep ass moans... It really haunted Jisung for some weeks and made him feel just a _little_ uncomfortable.

  
Felix got red as a tomato and tried to hide their bodies when his mind registered Jisung’s amusing presence there, while the other boy panicked without knowing where to put his hands at, moments before placed by Felix’s little butt. Jisung tried to ignore the fact they were almost fucking in the church, or block any idea about the whole thing because he really did not want to see his new friend like that even though he knew Felix was bisexual and Felix knew Jisung was gay. It was just wrong because Seungmin and Felix had become kind of like his brothers in those weeks, and he definitely did not want to know _that_ much details about his brother’s sex life that soon. They hadn’t reached that level of confidentiality yet.

  
Or maybe it was envy. Envy by the fact that weeks after that Seungmin also found a random tattoo artist called Changbin with whom he hooked up twice a week, and it made him feel too lonely again, too insecure, small and unattractive. Because he had never dated someone, he had never had sex before and now everyone seemed to be some steps ahead. It made him feel uneasy. As if, again, he did not fit in, although he had kissed and have done some stuff to a few “friends” he had last summer for fun. Because he was never interested in serious relationships.

  
Until Minho.

  
Although Jisung would never openly admit that Minho played an important character into making him change his perspective and ideas about love and relationships. To everyone, it was his friend’s fault, for ditching him in value of their new boyfriends/lovers. But at the end of the day, Jisung perfectly knew that he did not start to feel like that when his friends began to be less available to go to the cinema or play videogames. And he soon learned what it was to fall in love with someone who seemed to be too far away from his possibilities because of a friendship that at first brought them together, but now it felt as if it was just creating more distance between them. 

  
They did not meet in an unexpected or amusing way. Nor it was some sort of love at first glance story. He could not even remember the first time he saw Minho because he used to be too immersed in his own world, as always, but he certainly can remember the first few phrases they exchanged that day, long ago, a few months after entering the new high school.

  
“Do you have a lighter?” the voice was emotionless, kind of cold, as if the owner of it really did not care about the answer or whether the boy he was speaking to would look up to him and stop staring blankly at his small feet. 

  
Caught off guard, Jisung shivered inside that big grey hoodie that he used to hide how awkwardly wrinkled his shirt was. He usually did not give a damn about those kind of stuff, like the way his converse should be in the garbage since a long time ago, or the stains that sometimes you could see in his trousers, but he heard a few comments recently that upset him regarding the issue. And he had a bit of pride, enough for it to feel hurt by the comments.

He wanted to act as if he was indifferent, but truth was, that he was too conscious about other people’s opinion. That day he just wanted to hide, to make himself physically smaller, but somehow, the hottest guy he has ever seen ended up looking at him. 

  
Obviously, that was not the first thought that came into his mind. He was too worried panicking about someone speaking to him, to actually acknowledge the ethereal beauty of the boy. And his face probably reflected his internal conflict, because the unknown boy relaxed his expression and smiled, a little bit, enough to leave Jisung hanging, thinking that he might have lost his mind because there was no way he had seen the guy pronouncing the word “cute” at eight am in the morning while his own eyes opened terrified.

  
“Mmh, no, I don’t smoke” he was able to murmur under his breath, small voice and clumsy hand gestures while he tried his best to avoid eye contact, which he really hated. It made him tremble and stutter like a kid. It showed how insecure he was, especially when there was people like that boy how looked at him intensely, as if he was searching for something on his face. “Any problem?” he asked, tense. The boy just stood there, mysterious smirk, cat like eyes and perfect nose.

  
“Me neither. It was for something much more fun than smoking…” Jisung really wanted to punch him in the face and he did not know why exactly, but there was something on him, on his way of smiling as if he knew something that he didn’t, which really got into his nerves. Or maybe Jisung was being a little shit because that was the way he felt, ready to fight anyone that came into his path and mocked him. Lonely and annoyed again, but worse, because for a while he was able to experience what it was to have some good friends, enjoy stupid jokes and complain about the same old horrible movies that appeared on the TV.

  
And maybe that’s why he followed Minho when the boy started walking away, hands on his pockets, scarf hiding his red nose from the gust and backpack full. Because he has always had a curious nature and, honestly, everything seemed more interesting than having two hours of biology, even if that meant to follow some random dude who would be a killer as far as he knew. Nevertheless, good thing for him, because Minho just shrugged when he saw him by his side, and three hours later Jisung was still alive, in fact, feeling more alive than ever, laughing with the witty comments Minho made after he perpetrate his “evil” plan. 

  
Turns out he just wanted to prank a cousin that lived nearby. They started in the summer a “prank war” and two months later, they kept going from time to time. Minho’s genius plan today was to set fire to his cousin collection of anime figures. The night before he was able to steal some after those typical family dinners and he wanted to send him pictures with a lighter close to their abnormally sexualized bodies, just to get revenge for his cousin almost sending dick pics of Minho to the guy he liked at that time. So Jisung learned a few things that morning: 

  
He couldn’t figure out Minho but he kind of liked the feeling. 

  
Minho could be a sweetheart talking about his cats.

  
Minho was gay.

  
Minho liked someone ( _of course, every guy as handsome as him shouldn’t be single_ , that’s what Jisung thought).

  
And for some reason, Minho liked to take weird pictures of himself. 

  
Six months later and in the end, it was just Minho, long forgotten those afternoons with Seungmin and Felix ( _who? Those bastards would come back when they got tired of playing with love_ , that’s what Jisung said to himself, always sceptical about that type of emotion, too blind to acknowledge his own feelings for Minho). And Minho was the only one how knew him. Really _knew him_. As his best friend. 

  
And that didn’t surprise Jisung. Since that first day, he just knew they had a kind of unspeakable chemistry that made it easier for him to open up with Minho, maybe it was the similarities or maybe it was that they truly were “soulmates”, as Minho jokingly said one night they were in some park, just talking about nonsense, too tired to go to the cinema, but too excited to go back to their houses. Overall, Jisung always liked to spend time with Minho, because in most cases he did not need to speak about what was worrying him for Minho to understand and ditch that cold and indifferent attitude away and stay closer to him, even just by playing some videogames (although Minho really hated playing to them and preferred to watch anime cuddling). 

  
Because Minho knew Jisung wasn’t as confident or independent as he liked to seem. He knew his true interests and hobbies, definitely not being sports for his clumsy figure. He knew Jisung kept on feeling smaller each day that passed whereas everyone else saw him as a strong figure who never relied on anyone. 

  
Immature, lazy, vibrant, enthusiastic, but independent. 

  
He knew Jisung didn’t mean to be so dirty sometimes, that he forgot sometimes to wash his clothes, or he just didn’t have enough energy to do that, that he cared about other’s opinion and got sad whenever people spoke behind his back for liking anime and videogames, that he was stressed about his grades and he did not want to study chemistry, as he told everyone. And instead of complaining about all those lies, defects and fake persona, he just let the boy speak his heart out when he was too tipsy on his car, and held his hand when they were in crowded spaces, and tried to cheer him up whenever he was down, even though Minho himself was not as confident as Jisung though, nor as strong, since many times he just called him to listen to his voice at night, not because he was bored, but because he needed to hear his best friend’s voice. He needed Jisung. 

  
And that’s one of the things Minho learned in those months. Along the cute and joyful way Jisung had of laughing, mouth transformed into a heart, and eyes forming a half moon that moved Minho’s heart in ways he had never expected before. Minho learned to love the awkward choices of clothes Jisung made sometimes, with outfits in a thousand different colours and too much accessories, how his cheeks would become redder the closer Minho got, how he would make himself smaller when he giggled too hard and some weird gestures that showcase his back pains. He liked to suggest giving him a massage one day Jisung looked particularly stiff, but he then recalled the way his whole body jolted whenever their fingers touched, and Minho decided it wasn’t a good idea. He liked Jisung as he was, young, stupid sometimes, genius most of the time, weird, insecure, awkward, witty, and funny and a liar. And his best friend. Because he knew Jisung liked some boy, someone who would probably love him and cherish him more than anyone, but Jisung never said a word about him, increasing the distance between them. 

  
So Minho understood that Jisung liked him as a friend, but despised his touch, or any kind of intimate touch and move that Minho would make towards him that couldn’t be considered friendly or brotherly.

  
That were the kind of thoughts that navigated through Minho’s mind that afternoon on Jisung’s bed. Jisung was playing some videogames with his legs crossed and that awful position, back curved and neck too close to the television. He was wearing a pair of big rounded glasses that he hated and never used, but Minho convinced him to do so lecturing him about how he would be blind by twenty, although one part of himself actually put so much effort into persuading the boy because he wanted to see them on him. And he wasn’t wrong. Jisung looked like the cutest boy he had ever seen. A drenched in glittering sweat tanned boy who had sleepy eyes, dry lips and a tiny crooked teeth that showed up whenever his tongue moistened his lips full of wounds. 

  
There was something wild about the way Jisung looked in those kind of days, and especially, that extremely hot afternoon. Hair sparse into a million of untamed black locks he wished to touch. 

  
Minho imagined his own hand reaching the back of his friend’s neck, brushing the wetness of his skin and finally gripping Jisung’s luscious hair, and pulling, pulling, _pulling_ … until Jisung would be on his lap, mouth half-way open, eyes full of lust behind those foggy glasses and hands tangled on the school’s uniform of the other boy, while Minho’s lips pressed, so lightly, into his skin and licked and bit every atom of his body. Soft moans would fall from Jisung’s mouth and Minho’s lips would curve, devilishly, satisfied with his response, with the way the other boy begged with a broken tone for more. His neck on full display and his pretty small lips ready to be swollen from Minho’s attack. Their hands would discover more than once each curve, each scar, mole and imperfection from the other’s body, showering it with love while desire burned them slowly. So fucking slowly that Minho thought he was dying from the intensity of Jisung’s curious eyes, which for once, were lost in the smooth sensations that flew through his organism.

  
“Minho?” Jisung asks in an innocent voice that takes Minho by surprise and drags him out of his fantasy. His eyes linger for a few seconds on Minho’s face, scanning his cold expression in search for what made his friend ignore his complains and Minho panics, thinking that perhaps, Jisung is some sort of mind reader who would be able to see what kind of thoughts he had about him a few seconds before. The kind of thoughts you would never have for your best friend. Even so Minho knows it is stupid to think that, still, he shudders. 

  
“Mmm?” he hums, unable to trust his voice enough to properly form a sentence. His eyes scrutinize the ceiling, as if there was something wonderful apart from some weird spots that appeared last winter, avoiding the avid eyes of his friend. 

  
“Did you hear me?” his voice sounds small, even fragile and Minho’s eyes immediately go back to Jisung, feeling worse than ever from not paying attention and getting dragged by his hormones when Jisung seemed to be on a vulnerable state. A gentle wind comes through the open window, but it’s not enough to calm the anxious hearts of both boys. Jisung’s eyes go back to the game and he presses play without repeating whatever he had said. Sometimes Jisung became sulky if Minho didn’t pay attention to him but his pout would convert into a silly smirk after a few minutes; however, this time his smile dropped into a fake grin that sank Minho’s heart. 

  
Minho wanted to say anything, but Jisung was the good one with words and feelings. Minho always acted cold, indifferent and inattentive by default around people he didn’t know, so showing his true emotions was still difficult for him. Jisung was the only one who has openly heard him laugh and cry more than once, like that night a few months ago, when Minho was too drunk on his lies and one-sided love. 

  
Two matches later, Jisung lets his body fall backwards without his usual energy. As if the game has drained all the enthusiasm he showed an hour before, after they ate a pre-cooked pizza on Jisung’s kitchen and joked about skipping tomorrow’s classes for being the last ones of the academic year. Minho’s phone buzzes on his backpack, somewhere in the room, but his mind is too concentrated now on Jisung and how his lips try to curl up in a happy smile while his eyes bright with an unknown nostalgic light. 

  
Again, Minho desires to know all the secrets that Jisung hide. All the lies. All the pain that has made him be too insecure to take pride on himself and instead hide his vulnerability with a fake overconfidence.

  
“What does it feel to be loved, Minho-hyung?” Jisung never called him “hyung” unless it was something serious, because they both felt too connected to acknowledge the two years difference that separated them. Minho didn’t also like to remember how he failed two years of school because of some serious family matters. It was a dark time in his past he liked to ignore because the sadness and pain was unbearable even today, many years later. 

  
Jisung doesn’t move, doesn’t try to make eye contact, perhaps too lost in thoughts, perhaps too shy to look at him and show how limited his knowledge was in love matters. Sometimes he felt insignificant beside Minho, and he hated that feeling, how young and naïve he might look upon the other’s eyes. A kid, playing a game in which he didn’t belong to.

  
A wicked part of himself loved to remind him every night from time to time, how easily people got bored with him, how easily it was for people to stop calling him, sending him texts or hanging out. Just like Seungmin and Felix did in the past, even though they talk through texts almost every day, it still feels as if they were just doing it for pity, because their polite manners forced them to do so.

  
A wicked part of himself was just waiting for Minho to do the same. To leave him, to hate him, to despise him like his parents seemed to do sometimes, unaware of his son’s life, just worried about their jobs and his grades. 

  
That’s why he never thought of confessing his own feelings to Minho, because he was afraid of losing him even faster than he expected. 

  
“Warm, like being hugged by a blanket on a cold day, or feeling the soft embrace of someone’s arms around your body. It feels like coming back to home from a long holiday…” the neighbour’s music is still playing out loud, calm, melancholic and Minho feels a knot in his throat that makes it difficult to speak “but it can sometimes be suffocating when you know that you cannot reciprocate their feelings even though it would be much easier to do so. You can feel their pain, when they look at you, as if you were the most precious person in their lives. And you really want to do something, anything to stop the storm from coming, but the heart always does what it wants, without asking for permission, without taking into account anything but the lover that engraves its name into the soft surface of the beating organ. For every heartbeat, one tear which takes the lover’s name. And then you see a sea full of tears, of names and emotions” his heart aches significantly with each word and tears threaten to fall from his eyes when he remembers the way he rejected the boy that six months before was his crush, because he unexpectedly had fallen in love with an idiot who would never like him back. 

  
He cannot stop looking at Jisung even though he wishes, because the pain started to expand from his chest to every part of his body. Jisung’s hand is near his thigh, and in any other moment, Minho’s mind would be racing with dirty thoughts and panicking about him pressing his small fingers against his hard on. But the kind of longing that he felt so intensely at that moment was much different from lust. 

  
It was love. Pure and raw love just by seeing Jisung so small by his side, so human, so natural, _so real._

  
Minho wanted to kiss him more than anything at that moment, not for his own feelings and desires. Just to prove Jisung that he was loved, so fucking loved by someone who would give his whole world to lie by his side and hug him to sleep every night. He wanted to fill Jisung’s broken heart by the rejections of his friends and parents. He wanted to make him aware of how freaking sensational he was. 

  
“S-sounds good” mutters Jisung in a shaky voice and Minho’s heart shatters into a million pieces. Because the happy Jisung would have said something witty about the sudden poetic words coming out of Minho, when most of the time he sounded like a robot and never said anything as passionate as that. He was sure he could hear his voice say _“Poetic”_ if he concentrated enough, with that annoying smirk he used to provoke a reaction on Minho. But he did not. At that hurt like hell.

  
He is not conscious of his actions until his fingers brushes Jisung’s dark hair, freeing his forehead painted with some acne and scars from falling as a kid. His hand travels to his chin, tilting softly Jisung’s head until their eyes meet, both lying on the small bed, bedsheets wrinkled under their warm bodies, soaked in sweat, with the uniforms pressed uncomfortably to their young skin. Jisung’s eyelashes flicker rapidly, surprised by the sudden and caring touch, but he does not complain and rubs against his palm in search for more contact. 

  
For the first time, Jisung doesn’t move away as if Minho’s touch was poison, and something blooms in Minho’s chest. Perhaps hope. Perhaps his stupid heart believing that Jisung would stay with him, at least for a moment like that. Just once. And let him love him. 

  
Love him.

  
Love him.

  
“I guess he loves you so much” his words sound distant, as if they were in some short of dream that Minho wasn’t aware of. Minho frowns, perplexed by his words, and Jisung’s cheeks get redder than ever because he never expected to get that look from his friend. He was prepared to hear him chuckle under his breath, to smile wide, relieved now that Jisung knew about his boyfriend and talk endlessly about the perfect qualities of that perfect boy whose face was like a statue made by the biggest sculptor of the century. Just like Minho’s. They both looked pretty together, that kind of dangerous and eliciting beauty which could leave anyone breathless. “Hwang Hyunjin, the guy you liked a few months ago and the, almost, receiver of those awkward dick pics” Jisung laughs, but it’s a laugh that lacks cheerfulness. 

  
_Liar_ , Minho wanted to say. Because up close he could perceive how his pupils trembled and his hands transformed into fists while his mouth lied so good. He has always been such a good liar that even Minho believed his half-truths wholeheartedly most of the time. 

  
“Liar” he whispered with a sharp stare, ignoring how Jisung seemed taken aback by that single word. The air shifted, at first indistinguishable, then faster. Jisung’s chest arose with each unsteady expiration and tension filled every corner of the room while they stared at each other intensely “I don’t like him, nor I am his boyfriend” Minho made sure to pronounce slowly every syllable, enjoying the way Jisung’s look burned him while his eyes followed his lips with each motion. 

  
Electricity flooded his veins as he got closer by millimetres, feeling how the fear was finally crawling away from his body as the realization of Jisung’s feelings pierced his mind like a dagger. Jisung tensed up and he stopped breathing, throwing frightened looks between Minho’s tempting lips and his expanded pupils, as if he was trying to make up his mind about allowing Minho’s next movement or running away like the other times. Too afraid to know how those lips would feel against his. How his hands would caressing his face while kissing or how his body would press closer and closer, such as he was doing in those moments. 

  
Jisung’s mind was absolutely blank. If he backed away from Minho he would fall from the bed and it would probably be the last time Minho tried to do something intimate with him. He certainly knew that and he hated the thought of it. But Jisung was terrified. Of his feelings, of Minho’s behaviour, words and overall, Minho’s existence. 

  
He never felt like that before Minho and he was afraid of everything, but especially, of making Minho suffer in any way and see how the boy would leave his side in search for a better best friend, because honestly, although Minho was practically on top of him, Jisung was unable to believe that Minho felt something, anything, for him. 

  
“You can say no” his voice is soft and his eyes exhibit anxiousness over the way Jisung crawls and tries to make himself smaller. His hand cups Jisung’s face and for a few seconds none of them are able to speak. The air conditioner hits their red skins and Minho shivers although he is not cold at all. Jisung’s mouth falls open, so beautiful and his eyes shine so bright, as if all the stars of the universe had decided to hide on his orbs. Frankly, Minho is shaking as well, nervous and insecure, but the fire that spreads through his body takes the decision for him in the end, burning him tortuously slow. 

  
Jisung swallows dry and the tension increases considerably making it harder for Minho to think about anything else than Jisung while their heads get closer.

  
_Jisung. Jisung. Jisung. Jisung_. His mind seems to sing in a bliss, strangely, exultant in many different ways he didn’t comprehend.

  
Sung felt as if he was going to have a heart attack if Minho’s mouth pressed against any part of his body. His heart was beating at an unhealthy pace and he could feel it in his fingers, in his temples, in his throat. Everywhere. His mouth felt too dry so, unconsciously, his tongue started to moist his lips full of little bruises, making them gleam with spit under the warm light of the summer afternoon. Minho’s eyes practically devoured the boy’s actions, his pupils dark and teeth biting his own lips in a failed attempt of refraining himself and taking things slow. 

  
Jisung really wanted to kiss him. _For fuck sakes_ , he would give anything to kiss Minho at any moment of his miserable life, but the anxiety was creeping on a corner of his mind, sending death stares to the desire that lied there for so long, creating an invasive conflict that made him feel torn between his cruel fantasies and the reality. 

  
He wanted to believe that Minho wanted him as bad as he did, but it was Minho he was talking about. Lee Minho. The same guy who got strangers asking for his phone number or social media accounts because he was that handsome. The same guy who always smiled, distant, whenever he got texts from that Hyunjin boy (and yes, Jisung knew it was Hyunjin because he saw his contact information when one day he wanted to back hug Minho and the brightness of the “screen” hit him like a truck). The same guy who got a bunch of fans since the first day his dance studio started to upload videos on Youtube, even though he had some ugly glasses then and greasy hair (or that’s what Jisung said just to roast him when Minho showed some pictures, because he couldn’t just praise him and say he was cute, or else, Minho’s ego wouldn’t leave alone his ass for the next ten months or something). 

  
He wanted him _so freaking bad_ that he felt he was going to go crazy if Minho kept teasing him, almost touching his lips, with his chest pressed against his chest, with one of his legs in between Jisung’s. 

  
“Fuck it” he said under his breath, jumping as he was in the unexpected sea of love and almost unbearable lust. 

  
Their mouths found each other messily in between and Jisung’s heart began to sink in a way it never did before. Pleasant and inexplicable. Minho’s fingers traced the form of his jaw softly while his tongue demanded more control each second, the contrast, too overwhelming for Jisung’s mind to process at that moment. His hips moved on his own in search for more contact. 

  
_More. More_. That’s all his head was able to think. 

  
His body felt like hell, and even though he was not oblivious to this sensation, it was different from all the other times he hooked up with other guys. The way his lips moved against Minho’s was so different from the past. Hungrier. Needier. He wanted everything with so much fervour that it was almost suffocating. 

  
If their lips meet like two insecure lovers a few minutes before, now they were exploring each other’s mouth and body as if they were just rediscovering the secrets under the other’s skin. Unstoppable. Like a storm that was almost dragging them to the no return point. But, honestly, there was any possibility of going back? After feeling the soft lips of the other, the desperate hands pulling messy hair and blue ties aside, their hips rubbing against the other without decency… Jisung knew there was not a single possibility of going back to just being friends. It felt too good to do so.

  
Months. Eternal and endless months of hiding their feelings, ignoring the sexual tension, their gazes full of love and running away when things got too intimate. Now it seemed as if everything had exploded into a thousand colours. A palette Jisung wanted to paint with for the rest of his life. There was so much colour, so much emotion in the way Minho kissed and touched him with both fear and passion, that it was even frustrating. 

  
He wanted to tear apart his clothes, kiss every centimetre of his beautiful skin, and make him moan his name with each trust, scream, and cry. He wanted everything with him. 

  
Minho’s hand clutch Jisung’s waist under his dirty shirt and Jisung moans softly, because his fingers feel too cold against his warm skin and because his hand soon travels to his stomach and then his abdomen. His breath gets caught on his throat the moment Minho’s small hand reaches the waist band of his pants with a more than evident erection. Minho doesn’t even hesitates, sliding his slender fingers under the fabric of Jisung’s clothes while his teeth leave bite marks on his tanned neck. It tastes salty due to the sweat, but Minho doesn’t care, especially when Jisung shudders under his touch when he licks his earlobe and his fingers wrap around the tip of his tiny cock.

  
“M-minho” he stutters, feeling how the blush changes a little the colour of his cheeks and ears. He didn’t expect Minho to go so fast, but he was not complaining, although he much rather have his own mouth around Minho’s length. 

  
Jisung always felt a little insecure about his dick, but seeing how Minho just smiled cutely and proceeded to kiss him deeply again, made Jisung stop squirming under his touch. Instead, he took revenge the exact moment Minho started to tease the shaft of his member. His hips bucked up against his will, eager, too needy for games, but Minho liked the way Jisung moaned in a high pitched tone when he used the fabric of his boxers to please him slightly. 

  
“So sensitive” he whispered with a smirk, enjoying much more than he should the new discovery. “Bet I can make you cum in less than two minutes” Jisung sent him a death stare, biting his lips to not groan at the sensation of Minho’s fingers around his cock, so elegant, so fucking nice even though he was barely doing anything. He had been dreaming about that moment for so long that he, internally, was sure that Minho would be able to do so. 

  
_Hell_ , he could even cum instantly if Minho smirked again like that, as if he the control of everything and knew he was breath-taking. 

  
“Not as fast as I can make you do so” retorted Jisung with a hoarse tone. Minho’s jaw clenched half amused, half irritated by the confidence the younger one’s voice displayed. Sometimes, he hated Jisung’s guts, the way his tongue made a “click”, his eyes smiled provokingly and his mouth never shut up. He wanted to ruin him for so long. And Minho was not stupid enough to not take this as an opportunity to do as he pleased everything he desired with the cute and infuriating boy. 

  
With sharp movements, he takes Jisung’s pants off, graceless owing to their uncomfortable position, but still, enough to leave his skinny legs without cover up. Then, he goes for his boxers and much for his surprise, Jisung doesn’t whine or complain. He has a big mouth but loves being pleased. _Fucking brat._ That’s all Minho thinks before coming back and breaking the buttons of his shirt.

  
“You fucking idiot!” screams Jisung, but it’s too late. His chest is on full display and there’s no way he can use that shirt again. 

  
_Better._ Minho smiles devilishly inside his head. He wanted Jisung as naked as possible. Except for the cute glasses. He wanted to fuck him later with them on, so there was no way he could tell him to take them off. He liked the contrast between the dirtiness of what they were doing and how they were doing, sweaty, messy and fervent; with the innocent look the glasses gave him. 

  
“You have more, stop complaining” but Jisung doesn’t have time to reply before Minho kisses him again and pins him down on the bed and Jisung would be lying if he said he didn’t loved the way he was dominant but careful on his actions, too unsure about what where Jisung’s limits and how much he was used to take with sharp words. 

  
Little did Minho know that Jisung loved to be a brat to piss off his doms. But he wanted to behave today, so he let him take control of the kiss, destroying his lips with each bite and lick, making him lose his mind while his own hands touched Minho’s dick against his pants. Minho winced, surprised, but he didn’t pause him, moving his hips closer without thinking. 

  
It was obvious that for today, both were too eager to end up fucked out to actually wait more and stop the other. 

  
Jisung’s right hand unfastened with experience Minho’s pants and soon both boys were making out intensely with their hands working on each other’s dicks. Too eager to take turns, too desperate to prepare one of the two and properly fuck. Maybe they would on the second round, because there was no way any of them would put an end to it at that moment, just jerking the other off. 

  
Minho’s dick was a little bigger than Jisung’s, but not so much, which somehow, made him feel a little disappointed but happy as well. A part of himself had wanted Minho to have a massive dick, but realistically, his size was more than enough for Jisung to take. His small frame and butthole wouldn’t be able to take more even after hours of foreplay and preparation. He was just, small. 

  
“Shit” pronounced Minho when Jisung teased him at the tip, smearing his length with the pre cum that was coating his fingers. The kiss was a mess, they both were looking like a mess with Jisung almost naked with Minho not, skin too wet from sweat, angry bites and red cocks. They knew it, but didn’t care at all, not even about the window that was open, because Jisung knew that there was only a wall the other way, although a little part of himself enjoyed the thought of not being 100% sure about that idea. 

There was a point in which both forgot about the stupid bet, in which they just dragged their hands to every part of their bodies, grasping, scratching, marking without control while their hips meet, rubbing their dicks together and moaning loudly by the sensation. Clearly, it was not enough to get them off, but more than enough to make them lose their minds. 

  
Jisung also didn’t mind when Minho grabbed his hair and pulled hard to have more access to his neck, even though the hand he used was dirty with his own fluids and let his hair sticky afterwards. He was too worried about getting that fucking magnificent mouth on his dick if possible, to care about his hair or some shit like that. However, he didn’t complain at all when Minho’s lips curled around one of his nipples and licked with expertise. 

  
“Fuck, fuck” he whined arching his back with each kitten lick and hot look Minho gave him. Jisung knew he was being too rough pulling his hair and digging his nails on his back, but Minho just moaned every time, shaky breaths and perfect eyebrows frowning with the pleasure. 

  
Their hips moved without pace, faster and faster, and their cocks leaked more on the sheets and their bodies, making a disgusting but hot mess that got them closer. Their hands went back to the other’s dick, forcing a quicker orgasm just to prove their respective points now that they remembered the bet. They both wanted to make the other cum, hard and fast, to wear that smug look and take pride on breaking the other so easily. Their eyes connected in the distance, teary, making an effort to not break the contact even though their bodies were forcing them to close their eyelids. Jisung squirmed so sensitive and his moans became higher, more desperate, while more incoherent words fell from his mouth in between “Minho’s” name. On the other hand, Minho whimpered softly against Jisung’s collarbones, trying his best to quiet his wails because he was afraid anyone could hear them. His ears got redder by the thought and before he could process how that idea made him feel, cum spattered white both their stomachs while a rush of heat washed over his system. 

  
Panting, he cursed under his breath at the same time Jisung ended up trembling and making a bigger mess on their skins and bed. Cum felt sticky and uncomfortable on the hot skin, but Minho wasn’t thinking about it. Jisung’s lower lip was bleeding, probably because he bit it too hard to stop himself from moaning louder, and his pupils were too expanded on his big innocent deer like eyes behind those foggy glasses that were placed in an awkward position after the make out and climax. Eyes glossy, lost in ecstasy and hair scattered without control in millions of messy dirty locks, he looked stunning. 

  
Minho couldn’t stop himself from muttering “So fucking beautiful”, still quivering and trying to recover from the orgasm.

  
Jisung’s eyes scanned him weirdly after those words. A sudden silence break through all the noises that moments before filled the room. They couldn’t hear the neighbour’s song and Minho thought that maybe they had forced him to close the window due to their groans and the sounds of Jisung’s old bed. Again, blush starts decorating his face and Minho decides to lie down next to Jisung, avoiding eye contact at all costs while they inspire and expire quietly with their softened dicks shamelessly laying out.

  
“You lose” says Jisung after recovering, with that annoying and joyful tone. Minho could see the endless hours of mockery that were waiting for him now that he came earlier than expected. He wanted to counter, tell him that it wasn’t that final flick he made what got him over the edge, but a part of him knew that he would be lying. It was Jisung. One way or another, what got him so worked up in the beginning with his inappropriate daydreaming, filling his thoughts, his fantasies. Everything. 

  
_Jisung._

  
“We will see who is going to lose when I get my hands on that flat ass” Jisung pouted for the comment and Minho laughed, delighted by his cuteness. The chilly air flew from one room to another in that empty house, as a leaf that falls from a tree and it is dragged beautifully around, making some acrobatics before settling in the ground. “Plus, you weren’t that good. Don’t get too cocky or I will have to fuck all that irritating confidence of you” Minho smiled jokingly, with that cute smile that he almost never used, unless they were alone, in his car, or in Jisung’s room, talking about nonsense, as if he almost forgot to keep that cold attitude and tempting smirks. As if he wanted to show Jisung all his true colours at once, and only Jisung.

His words hid an unspoken promise. A second round. And probably more after that one, for days or even months. It made Jisung’s heart shake excited. They both knew they would have to talk about it in the end, they would have to speak those words they tried to transmit through kisses and pour their heart out with honesty, in the most vulnerable state they have shown the other; but right now that wasn’t on their minds. Talking now would only break the wonderful atmosphere with nervous gestures, hearts and gazes. And all they wanted was to enjoy the soft touch of the other’s mouth on theirs and the raspy fabric of the bedsheets against their sensitive skins. 

  
Maybe after a shower, which would probably hide more secrets than that same room at this moment. Or maybe when Jisung walked Minho home, just because he didn’t feel like letting Minho go so easily from his side now. 

  
“Liar” Jisung replied then, using the same tone Minho did minutes before with that exact word. “Liar” he repeated before their lips meet again, sweeter than before. Jisung tilted his head, taken aback by the lovely gestures, but nevertheless, enjoying it to its fullest. He felt exultant for once. In an extraordinary way. 

  
He felt, _**loved.**_


End file.
